


The Creation of Lord Voldemort

by Ariadne_Saphira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Lake, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw house - Freeform, Slytherin, Slytherin House
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 06:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19101406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariadne_Saphira/pseuds/Ariadne_Saphira
Summary: Tom Riddle has never been an ordinary boy. But he wasn`t born evil. Just as everyone else, he craves for understanding and friendship.





	The Creation of Lord Voldemort

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

# The Creation of Lord Voldemort

###  _**Scene 1**_

_September 4th, somewhere in the dungeons of a vast castle somewhere in the Highlands_

Tom couldn't sleep for the second night in a row. After the start-of-term feast he had been so fully fed and overwhelmed by the many new impressions that he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the green pillow decorated with silver seams. He hadn't even taken the time to take a closer look at his new common room and dormitory, let alone unpack his few belongings. Only the next morning after getting up, as he had searched for the source of the pale, greenish light that strangely illuminated the room, did he realize that he was under the black lake. The dark water pressed against the thick glass panes through which the rugged rocks and sometimes bypassing fishes and other creatures (of which he neither knew the name nor intended to ever get closer to them, they looked so scary) appeared grotesquely distorted. Since then it was over with his otherwise so quiet sleep. As soon as he entered the tastefully furnished common room with its upholstered chairs and green sofas, he was overcome by a slight panic. If he stared too long through the round windows into the murky water and involuntarily imagined how the panes broke and the lake flooded the room, he became dizzy and the air seemed too heavy to breathe. Only fresh air and a view from a window above the water surface provided relief.

The narrow window in the corridor where he was standing now, barely ten metres from the door to the common room, offered him both. Although the difference in height from the common room to the corridor was only that of the few steps that led up to the door, and the window overlooked the odious lake, it was still a huge improvement. He didn't mind looking at the mirror-smooth black surface. He had no general dislike for lakes or other waters. But in the Slytherin common room, with all the damn water _above_ him, he felt locked up. Constantly threatened. Why hadn't the sorting hat put him in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor? _They_ lived in towers as far away from the ominous water as possible.

He tried to make out his surroundings, which was difficult as it was only three a.m. and still dark, and listened for noises. He would like to go further away from the uncomfortable common room, into the great hall or, even better, out on the castle grounds to look at the starry sky. Stars had a calming effect on him. Every feeling of constriction disappeared before the vastness of space. But he didn't dare. He had to stay close enough to the door to quickly disappear behind it if necessary. He wasn't exactly afraid of Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris, but he _was_ afraid of making himself unpopular by losing house points.

Not that he was popular now. The others laughed at him for his second-hand robes and used spellbooks, or simply ignored him when he asked a question they thought was stupid. Some even called after him things like “Hey there, Riddle, have you solved yourself yet?” and then roared with laughter. When Dumbledore had visited him at the orphanage a few weeks ago and told him he was a wizard, he had been overjoyed, happier than he had ever been in his whole life, happier even than he had been after hanging that stupid rabbit. Torturing others filled him with satisfaction, but he didn`t feel real joy. The idea that a whole new world was waiting for him, where he could start all over again, was wonderful. Had been. Now he was disappointed. The orphanage had never felt like home, but neither did Hogwarts. Of course, the castle itself was amazing, but he was just no good with people. Especially not with people who judged him by his looks as soon as they saw him.

It was at this very moment of feeling sorry for himself that he saw it. Something floated on the water, just a few metres from the edge of the cliff. Something blacker than the black water, swirling with the slight ripples which disturbed the lake. He thought it looked like a cloak. But there was something else, just inches underneath the surface. Something pale white, motionless. Suddenly Tom leaped to his feet, horror-struck. A hand. The thing he had seen was a hand. Without considering, he sprinted down the corridor, up the many staircases and into the marble entrance hall. With all the strength he could muster he pulled open the large oak front door and ran down the dark lawn towards the cliff. His first thought had not been to _help_ whoever was floating there in the water. He had never helped anyone. He just didn`t want the goddamned lake to have them.

As he arrived at the edge of the water, he hesitated only for a second, then started to wade carefully towards the body. This wasn`t easy as the rocks were slippery and there were gaps between them sometimes. Luckily, the lake was very shallow here, so he could reach the body without having to swim. But then the real problems started. As he tried to pull the body out of the water, he couldn´t. Something was holding it back. Cursing, he lit his wand, which he had completely forgotten about until now, and dived. After adapting to the dim light, he realised that it wasn`t _something_ holding the body back, but that it was its own pale hand that clung to a rock with a grip so firm he was unable to loosen it.  
As he re-emerged from the water, spluttering, he cursed even louder. The girl was so close to the surface, and yet he couldn`t get her out. Although it might not even be too late yet. He had seen her face, pale and a little bit creepy, but at the same time beautiful and seemingly very alive. For a moment he considered to go and get help, but he was quite certain that there wasn`t any time. He had to get her out of the water _now_. Besides, he didn`t like asking for help. So, he dived again, his wand between his teeth this time because he would be needing both his hands. With one hand he clung to the cliff, not unlike the lifeless body next to him, with the other he picked up a heavy rock. He had to pause for breathing one time, but finally he managed it. The sound of the breaking knuckles was especially awful underwater, but he hadn`t had a choice. It was easy now to pull the broken fingers away from the cliff. With a last effort, he pulled the girl`s body out of the water and onto the bank. She wasn`t breathing. Remembering his first and only first aid lesson last year, where he had managed to hurt three of the other orphans while pretending to bandage them before being thrown out, he placed both hands on some point lower than the girl`s neck and pushed a few times. Nothing happened. Desperately he hit her with his fist as hard as he could and was rewarded with a cough and lots of spluttering as the girl gasped for air. “Never say violence wasn`t a solution” he muttered, imitating the strict madam who was in charge at the orphanage and with whom he hadn`t had a single conversation in which she did not say that stupid sentence to him in a disappointed and angry voice. The girl, whom he had recognised as the strange Graephenstein from the newspapers, had finished coughing and opened her eyes quite suddenly. Her eyes darted around wildly, and then she noticed Tom, grabbed him with her undamaged hand by the collar of his emerald pyjama and half shouted, half whispered some words in a very strange language Tom had never heard before. For a bewildered moment, Tom was sure to see her blue eyes glow bright green, not unlike cats` eyes, but it was probably only his own pyjama mirrored in them. She then let go of him and screamed, screamed so loud that for an instant he was sure he would become deaf, and then her head rolled to one side and she lay quite still – unconscious, as he hurriedly made sure.

Looking up from the girl's pale face, he became aware of all the lights and shouts in the castle. They must have heard the scream. Tom’s first instinct was to get away from this place as fast as possible. This strategy had always proven well when he had played one of his dirtier jokes in the orphanage. He had never actually been caught. Of course, this situation was entirely different, he hadn't hurt the girl – apart from the smashed hand which had been a necessity in order to save her and which hopefully could be magically healed. But still, why should the teachers, who knew about his past, believe his story? He quickly made up his mind. Even if he did run away now, they would probably find out he had been involved in this incident. After all, someone might have noticed that he was nowhere to be found in his dormitory or common room. So, he shot some red sparks in the air – a lot of red sparks and really high in the air, at least for a first-year – and waited, sitting on the cold wet rock next to the cold wet body. He would have tried to dry and warm her somehow, but he himself was so cold and wet that it was completely useless and the only spell he had learned so far was _Lumos_ , which didn't provide any warmth either.

A few seconds later a whole bundle of teachers arrived at the scene, their lit wands blinding him, first of all Professor Dumbledore, hair and beard flying in the cool night air, as was his long purple cloak. In fact, he seemed to be the only one who was fully dressed, all the others appeared in pyjamas or, tops, a dressing gown. Throwing Tom a curious glance over his sparkling half-moon spectacles, he stooped and examined the girl. “She is just unconscious, sir” Tom said in a small voice. He couldn’t help it: Whenever Dumbledore was around, he felt slightly uncomfortable. “I pulled her out of the lake. She wasn't breathing.” Somehow, this fact seemed to be important.  
“You will have time to explain all of this later, including your presence here at this time of night”, Dumbledore said in a calm, but stern voice. “Now, first of all, we have to get both of you up to the hospital wing.” With that, he cast a charm which dried and warmed both the girl and Tom in just a few seconds.  
“I'm not hurt, sir”, Tom murmured, feeling much better already. “But yes, you are!”, Dumbledore insisted, sounding almost cheerful at the look of complete bewilderment on Tom's face, and pointed at his bare feet. To Tom's astonishment there was a long, jagged cut which ran across his left ankle and which he hadn’t noticed at all, even though it was bleeding heavily. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore stopped the bleeding. "We should leave the actual healing to Poppy, I mean, Madam Pomfrey", he said. "She is far more competent in these matters." He then conjured a stretcher out of thin air and made the girl float onto it. He directed the stretcher with his wand like a conductor so that it was floating beside him. Tom, to his relief, was allowed to walk. He didn’t have any desire of floating around on a stretcher just because he had cut himself on some stupid rock while rescuing some silly girl. What was she doing in the lake, anyway? Trying to drown herself? It certainly seemed to be that way, and if this was in fact the truth, he hadn’t even done the girl a favour at all by saving her.

~ *-* ~

Madam Pomfrey cleaned and healed Tom's cut in a matter of seconds and then turned to the girl, looking a bit more worried than usual as she examined her bleeding, squashy-looking hand. Tom wanted to stay and watch Madam Pomfrey because he thought it was a fascinating sight how the skin grew under her wand, but Professors Slughorn and Dumbledore asked him to come to Slughorn's office at once.

Feeling nervous and guilty, like a criminal in court, Tom found himself standing in front of Slughorn's desk, shuffling around on the soft carpet with his bare feet, which had become cold again on the way down to the dungeons. Slughorn seated himself comfortably in his large armchair behind the parchment-loaden desk and retrieved a box of candied pineapples from a drawer. “Pineapples, Albus?” He offered the box to Dumbledore who was sitting on a high leaned chair half-hidden in the shadows and refused the offer politely. Tom just shook his head as his Head of house offered him the fruit. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for pineapples.  
“Now, Tom, if you'd please enlighten us about the events of this night.” Slughorn looked a little less relaxed than usual as he leaned forward (which was difficult because his belly prevented him from coming close enough to the table to even rest his elbows on it) and tried to take on a serious expression.  
Tom took a deep breath and started his report. “Well, I was looking out of the corridor window when I saw –“ Slughorn interrupted him before he managed to finish his first sentence. “What on earth were you doing in the corridor at three a.m.?” “I – er – couldn’t sleep.” - "Which is no reason at all for wandering around at night-time!”, said Slughorn, sounding triumphant, as though he had just proven Tom’s guilt in a court of law. Dumbledore however remained quite calm and asked Tom in a kind voice: “And why was that, Tom? What kept you from sleeping?”  
Tom felt himself flush slightly. It was so embarrassing. Bravening himself, he finally managed to answer. “It's because of the lake, sir. I don’t like having all the water around me.” Staring at his toes, he waited for them to laugh, but as they didn’t, he carefully looked up again. Slughorn seemed to be a bit surprised, but Dumbledore's look was kinder than ever. “It is totally alright for everyone to be afraid of something “, he said, watching Tom from over his spectacles. “If it encourages you, know that you are not the first Slytherin to be afraid of the lake.” The words were kind and soft and actually did encourage Tom, but still... “I’m not afraid, sir”, he said in his driest voice. “I just don’t like the lake.”  
Dumbledore nodded slowly, then rested his chin on his fingertips again. Slughorn cleared his throat in a matter-of-fact way and demanded: “Continue.”  
And Tom told them everything, everything – except for the green glowing eyes and strange language. He wasn’t quite sure he hadn’t imagined the green, and it felt somehow to personal to talk about how the girl had grabbed him by his collar.

His story was followed by a brief silence. Finally, Slughorn spoke again. “It seems that I must both punish and reward you”, he stated. “First, I will have to take twenty points from Slytherin for your being outside in the corridor at night. “. Tom opened his mouth to protest, but Slughorn held up a sugar-powdered hand to silence him. “Even if this was how you detected Miss Graephenstein in the first place, you were just not allowed. Don't look so shocked, now! The ends never justify the means, remember that, Tom. Now, as to your reward: for your selfless rescue operation tonight I award Slytherin house a hundred points, and you will receive a medal of honour. How's that, now?” Looking pleased with himself, Slughorn turned to Dumbledore, seeking his approval. Dumbledore however was looking at Tom, and between a mixture of worry and curiosity Tom could see pride glow in those bright blue eyes. “Thank you, sir”, he said quietly, but the whole time he was looking at Dumbledore, who nodded slightly.  
“Well now”, Slughorn called, being his usual cheerful self again, “I believe these were enough exhausting interrogations for tonight – or should I say today?” He chuckled, then unsuccessfully stifled a yawn. “You better go back to your dormitory now and get some sleep. You look horrible.” Yawning again, he added, as an afterthought: “I will try to do the same now.” Before he could stop himself, Tom asked: “You will try to look horrible as well, sir?” Slughorn stared and Tom held his breath, terrified of his own daring. Seconds later, Slughorn snorted and roared with laughter, unable to get a grip on himself. Even Dumbledore allowed himself one of his little chuckles. After a while, Slughorn managed to speak again.  
“Now, now, Mr. Riddle, off you trot. And I will not tolerate any lateness for our first lesson tomorrow morning.” With a broad smile Slughorn waved towards the door. Tom had already pulled the door open when he turned back to face the two teachers once more. “The girl – Miss Graephenstein – will she be alright?”  
Slughorn shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that, as soon as Madam Pomfrey has succeeded in rearranging that puzzle of bone splinters into a functional hand, Miss Graephenstein will be just fine. And now, a good night to you, Mr. Riddle.” “Right. To you too, Professors.”

Finally, Tom left the cosy office, walked down the cool dungeons corridor and gave the password (“candied pineapples”) to a disgruntled door, which cursed him for coming so late to the party before letting him in.

~ *-* ~

As Tom opened his eyes in the morning, it took him a moment to realize why he was so happy. It wasn’t because of the great spontaneous party which his house had thrown in their common room at four o’clock in the morning to celebrate Tom, all the house points, the stupidity of the Graephenstein girl and all the house points. After the first twenty minutes a bad tempered Slughorn in a velvet dressing gown had entered the common room and had told them off, but as they had offered their potions teacher a sleeping draught, he had accepted the tiny bottle gratefully and had left, wishing them a nice party. They hadn’t been disturbed again, but even though Tom had loved all the attention and nice words he got, he had gone to bed sometime around five a.m. He just had to try and get some sleep or he wouldn’t survive the next day. And that was why he was happy. He had slept, slept just as well as ever and even better than during his first night in Hogwarts (he had had a subtle stomach ache from eating way to much during the feast, especially from the delicious treacle tart). Smiling, he turned his head and faced the window, filled with dark green water. It didn’t scare him any more. Relieved, he pulled a face at the stupid lake. He, Tom Riddle, had defeated its evil spell by taking its prey from it.

**Author's Note:**

> This being my very first written fanfiction (I day-dream stuff like that all the time), I would be happy if you left a comment.


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